Poems welcome me home. The same is true of stones.




Quite stunning, polished smooth by nature’s forces. By grace.






And again, the other side of her.  I like to think she’s sharing her life’s experiences.

Sometimes stitches are required to make the body whole. Sometimes the stitching is signature and fingerprint.

And the poem, you ask?   As soon as I held her, I was reminded of the last 5 lines of my poem, Toujours:

what remains when everything gone?

skin’s intricate labyrinth


always compliment the stitching

each day add an accent of red

PS.  Should you put this rock against a candle, you have the synergy of earth & sky.  The evening is good.